Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: Hey everyone. I'm so sorry I haven't updated this in a while. Real life has been crazy lately; I've been up and down emotionally, and haven't been able to think straight. But I'm happy to say that everything's settled down now. I really hope to update more frequently from now on.

Thank you so much for the awesome reviews. I'm so incredibly glad you like what I'm doing with the story so far. I'd honestly never seen one that started from the ferret scene before, and I suddenly had the idea for it. I like that it seems to be original.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

xxxxxxxxxx

Harry sat, his fists clenched upon the desktop as the sound of laughter permeated the room. For the second time, most of the Gryffindors were laughing as Professor Mad-Eye Moody did something that Harry didn't find the least bit funny.

He had stumped into the classroom at the beginning of the lesson, and proceeded to tell the class that they would be studying curses that year. Then, he'd asked what curses were the worst in the wizarding world. Hermione, as usual, had known the answer. "The Unforgivable Curses," she'd said promptly. "The use of one on any human being will land you a life sentence in Azkaban."

Harry had felt dread coil in his stomach. He'd never learned about these curses before - what were they, and what effects did they have on people? Beside him, Harry noticed that Neville had stiffened; the expression on his face was one Harry had never seen before - his friend looked haunted and afraid.

Harry had not been at all looking forward to Moody's class. He still couldn't get the sick satisfaction he'd seen on the grizzled ex-Auror's face as he'd literally been torturing Malfoy out of his mind. The thought of him teaching was not a prospect Harry found pleasing. At least he'll only be doing it for a year, he thought to himself. Moody had announced it shortly after the lesson had begun; he said he was doing this as a favor for Dumbledore. He wondered again why the old wizard had gotten him out of retirement. Surely he could find a better teacher? But, considering Harry had been taught by the likes of Quirrell and Lockhart, then maybe not, he thought bitterly.

And now, Moody was making a spider do things that no spider should be able to do. Ron was sitting on Harry's other side, and his face had gone white when Moody had retrieved the spiders. But Harry could see that now, even he was laughing at the display of theatrics that Moody was forcing the spider to perform.

Just like with the ferret incident, it was plain that Neville did not think this at all funny either. He was trembling, and he looked as though he was going to vomit any minute now. Other than him, the only other student Harry saw who wasn't laughing was Hermione. She was staring, horrified, between Moody and the spider.

Finally, Moody stopped the awful display and banged his fist hard upon the desk, which stopped the laughter instantly. "Think it's funny, do you?" he snarled at the class. "How would you like it if I did it to you?" His magical eye swiveled around the room, stopping and gazing intimidatingly at every student it passed.

Harry had realized the implications of this spell the moment it had been performed, and it seemed as though the rest of the class grasped onto it as Moody explained. "Complete and total control," he said softly. "I could force that spider to do ANYTHING I wanted it to do. I could make it drown itself if I were so inclined." He let out a harsh bark of laughter, and poor Neville almost jumped out of his skin. "When You-Know-Who lost his powers, many tried to say they had only done his bidding because they were under the Imperius Curse," he growled. "It was very difficult for the Ministry to tell who were the ... liars." An ugly expression came upon his face as he grabbed a second spider. "Now, who can tell me another Unforgivable Curse?"

Harry watched as, shaking all over, Neville raised his hand. His face was chalk white, and he looked even more nauseated than before. Harry marveled at him - Neville truly didn't think he was brave? This again proved the opposite. Sickened and terrified though he was, he had offered to answer a question from a teacher who clearly frightened him beyond belief.

"Your name's Longbottom?" Moody asked, his magical eye seeming to examine Neville critically.

"Y-Yes, sir," Neville stuttered, and took a deep breath. "The C-C-Cruciatus Curse."

And Harry watched in horror as the second spider writhed around in agony, and if it could scream, Harry knew it would be doing so. He began to feel just as nauseous as Neville looked, and eventually, he couldn't keep his eyes on the cruel display anymore. He focused his entire attention on Neville instead, and saw that the other boy was blinking back tears. Harry glowered at Moody as the spider kept twitching and writhing; wasn't it plain to see that the class had gotten the point? Did the man honestly have to prolong this?

Hermione had the same thought, because she shrieked, "Stop it! Stop it! That's enough!" Harry put a hand on Neville's shoulder; his friend now had his head on the desk, and his shoulders shook with sobs he tried not to let show.

Several seconds later, Moody finally lifted the spell. Was it his imagination, or had Moody kept the spell on the spider a few more seconds on purpose? Ever since the ferret incident, Harry had looked at anything Moody did with suspicion, so maybe he was reading too much into things - but he couldn't help himself. There was just something about Moody which revolted him and turned his stomach. Were all Aurors like this? He'd said the students needed to be prepared for what a dark wizard could do to them, but showing them these curses ... this was just horrible.

"Awful, isn't it?" Moody murmured. "Not very nice at all. But you've got to know, boys and girls. This is too important for you not to." He retrieved the last spider, and Harry felt a shudder go up his spine. A sense of foreboding crept through him; he remembered the dream from this summer, where the old Muggle man had been killed by that awful, inhuman thing in the chair, the thing who professed to be Lord Voldemort. "The last curse," Moody muttered, pointing his wand at the spider, "is this one. AVADA KEDAVRA!" he bellowed.

A burst of green light thundered out of Moody's wand, and hit the spider. Instantly, it went still. The class was dreadfully silent for several seconds, their attention fixed on the spider who lay on the desk, still not moving. It was dead.

Harry took several deep breaths, trying hard to keep his lunch down. That was how the old man had died, and he knew his parents had been murdered in the same way. His mother had been screaming, "Not Harry! Not Harry! Have mercy! Have mercy! Take me, kill me instead!" one moment, and the next moment the green light had illuminated the room, life wiped clean away from Lily Potter.

Though Harry tried, he just couldn't look away. The spider still lay on the desk, so, so incredibly limp. Moody was speaking again, but Harry could only hear roaring in his ears. He continued to watch the lifeless insect; it was just too still, it was unnatural. It was just ... so lifeless. He felt Neville's hand on his shoulder, but paid it no attention. All he could see was the spider. His head pounded, and he could feel bile rising in his throat. With all his might, he willed the spider to move, but it did not. It still lay motionless upon the desk.

And Harry couldn't bear it anymore. Moody was just going right on talking, just going right on with the lesson when he had just shown the class how to wipe something straight out of existence. It's just a spider, Harry tried to rationalize, imagining all those creepy, crawly insects climbing all over him in the tiny, cramped cupboard under the Dursleys' stairs, and how he wished they'd just go away.

But he realized it didn't matter. He had seen it done on a human being too, and his parents ... he'd had the life he did because of that curse. And he had unwanted fame because he'd survived that curse. The wizarding world worshiped him, idolized him, praised his name because he had survived having that done to him. His nausea out of control, he jumped out of his chair and bolted out of the classroom.

He'd only just made it out the door before he doubled over, retching. Everything he had eaten at lunch made an appearance all over the floor. He vomited until nothing else came up, until he was dry heaving. His stomach wouldn't stop rebelling as he felt someone gently stroking his hair.

When the heaving finally stopped, his eyes streamed tears of misery and humiliation. What must the class think of him? Had they been able to hear him? And who was out here with him?

"Harry?"

Harry immediately recognized Hermione's voice as he slowly and reluctantly lifted his head from the floor. "Hermione," he croaked weakly. "What are you doing out here?"

Hermione raised her wand. "Evanesco," she incanted, and the vomit disappeared from the floor. "Scourgify," she then said, and the floor was instantly all clean. "Moody sent me out here after you," she said quietly as she helped Harry to his feet. "Come on, let's go get you some water."

Without saying a word, Harry let Hermione lead him back to Gryffindor Tower. Thankfully, she was perfectly fine with staying quiet until they arrived. There was always a jug of water kept in the common room with a plethora of cups beside it. Hermione guided a still trembling and miserable Harry to the sofa, and within seconds, she was back with a cup of water which she handed to Harry with a soft smile.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry mumbled, still feeling so many things at once that it was hard to pinpoint all the different emotions. There was humiliation, anger, grief, misery ... and all-around abhorrence for everything he had just seen.

"Sorry," he murmured after he had finished the cup. "I ... I ..."

"Hush, Harry," Hermione said as she sat next to him on the sofa. "Don't be sorry. After what you've been through, it's perfectly normal how you reacted. How that man could show us that ..."

At these words, Harry's anger made itself known verbally. "That man is evil," he said, his voice growing stronger. "There's something wrong with him."

Gee, doesn't this feel familiar, Harry thought sarcastically. Another weird Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Can't we, for once, get someone normal? Who cared that Professor Lupin was a bloody werewolf? He had been sane and rational. He didn't torture students in front of their classmates, even if some were known to hate that student. And he certainly didn't show curses which ... which ...

Hermione gave no answer to this statement. Instead, she just rubbed Harry's shoulder gently, telling him without words that she understood he had seen more than the spider when the Killing Curse had been performed.

"I'm sorry I'm making you miss the rest of class," Harry said eventually. "Thanks for coming after me."

Hermione snorted. "When are you boys going to understand that as much as I get a lot out of learning and education, my friends are more important to me?" she said with a small smile. "And seriously, Moody should have warned you before he showed you that out of the blue. You of all people, Harry, should have been told it was coming. And no," Hermione said as she saw the look on Harry's face, "you're not weak for reacting the way you did. Get that thought out of that thick head of yours right now, Harry Potter."

Harry couldn't help but smile at his friend. Trust Hermione to use that tone of voice she always used on him and Ron. That "Oh, what am I going to do with you?" tone that always seemed to rile Ron up worst of all. This cheered Harry up a little; Hermione speaking like that made it seem like it was business as usual, and it helped him to not feel so awful.

xxx

Despite this, Harry felt like hiding for the rest of the day. After several more minutes of sitting with Hermione, he made his way back up to the dormitory. Reaching into his schoolbag, he fished out the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. He lay on his bed and drew the curtains around it, slowly opening the album.

As he looked at the pictures on each page, his parents' faces smiled at him. Picture after picture, pose after pose, scene after scene presented itself to him as he saw Lily and James Potter from when they were teenagers to when they were young parents, holding a squirming bundle who he knew to be himself. The love in their eyes was plain to see even on paper, love for each other ... and love for him. Harry felt tears prick his emerald eyes as he stared at their faces. A feeling of overpowering longing hit him like a tidal wave, and a powerful hatred rose up inside him at Voldemort, who had flicked his wand, spat those two vile words, and snuffed the life out of Harry's parents just like that. Harry wished to see them for just one moment ... was that too much to ask? He remembered their sad smiles at him in the Mirror of Erised, and how he'd wanted nothing more than to jump through and land in the world of the mirror. Now, those feelings were multiplied - what he'd give, just to be able to touch them, to talk to them ...

"Harry? Are you in here?" a tentative voice called softly.

It was Neville, who sounded just as miserable as Harry felt. "I'm right here, Neville," he said. As much as he wanted to be left alone to grieve, he knew he needed to be there for Neville, who'd been just as traumatized by Moody's class as he had.

Neville came over and sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "Are you okay?" he asked in a small voice. "I'm sorry about Moody's class."

Harry continued to be amazed by Neville's compassion. He had been stricken by the class too, but his first words to Harry had been about how it had affected him. "Thanks," he said quietly. "Me, too. I felt awful about what it did to you."

Neville opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking like he was on the verge of saying something but not quite sure how. "What is it, Neville?" Harry finally asked. "You can tell me."

"Uh ..." said Neville, his face pale. "There's a reason I reacted like that when Moody showed the C-Cruciatus Curse." He took a deep breath, and continued. "My parents," he said softly. "They were Aurors. At the end of the war, four Death Eaters tortured them, thinking they knew where You-Know-Who was. They ... they ..." He stopped, looking unable to go on.

"Did they die?" Harry whispered, understanding dawning. No wonder Neville had reacted like that. Another burst of anger flew through him at Moody's callousness.

"No," said Neville, sounding on the verge of tears again. "The Cruciatus Curse drove them insane. They've been in St. Mungo's ever since, and they ... they don't recognize me."

Horror seized a hold of Harry, almost strangling him. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry," he said, his heart aching for the other boy. "That's ... that's horrible. I can't believe Moody showed us that." The whole scene ran through his mind again. "How can you think you're not brave?" he said, suddenly full of awe. "You raised your hand and answered the question when Moody asked about another Unforgivable Curse. You were willing to try to face it."

Neville still looked miserable, but tried to smile at him. "My gran says I have to," he said. "She says I should be proud that my parents fought the Death Eaters with everything they had. I am proud of them, but it still ..."

"It's still hard to talk about," Harry finished, understanding completely. "I get it, Neville. That doesn't mean you're not brave."

"Thanks," said Neville gratefully, and the two friends remained silent for several minutes, contemplating the day's events.

"Here," Harry said, taking the picture album from next to him and handing it to Neville. "I'd like to show you this."

He had never shown anyone his photo album before, but he suddenly felt a need to show it to Neville. The two were more alike than he'd ever known, and he felt an urge to share some of his past with him. "This is a picture album Hagrid gave me. Open it," he told the other boy softly when he seemed reluctant to touch it.

"Are you sure?" asked Neville. "It's yours."

"Of course," Harry said, smiling at him. "I'd like you to see it."

And for several minutes after that, he and Neville talked over the photos that were in Harry's album. It was plain to see that both boys were still incredibly shaken from what had occurred that day, but as they sat in each other's company and looked at the pictures of the two smiling people who had made the ultimate sacrifice to keep Harry alive, a bond of brotherhood cemented itself between them both.

Neither of them went to dinner, and Harry was relieved that none of their other dormmates came up until bedtime. They seemed to realize that both he and Neville needed privacy. When they did come up, they kept quiet, and a warm sensation filled Harry. As much as the others could be insensitive at times, they understood that tonight was no night for frivolity or small talk.

As Harry and Neville both drew the curtains around their beds and settled down to sleep, they knew that they each had someone they could count on at the worst of times. And no matter what happened in the future, they were sure they would both feel better for it.